


the snake which eats itself

by Anonymous



Category: Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc
Genre: By Extension:, Cannibalistic Thoughts, F/M, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Food is People, M/M, Multi, Other, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-10-26 15:41:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20744621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Together, we are an Ouroboros, infinitely feeding ourselves.





	the snake which eats itself

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for Kanon-typical content (incest, familial abuse, etc). Heed the tags.

"a kiss is the beginning of cannibalism" - georges bataille

Flesh is rendered, in truth; we tear it apart, we shred ourselves limb from limb. We learn in youth to slice and cut and strip ourselves down to the bone. To love is to consume; we nourish ourselves through eating others.

His hands are on me, and they're hungry, starving. We're both starving, really. Society eats away at those who can afford it least. The depressed, the disabled, the abused; we're too weak to batter off those who'd strip out every ounce of our flesh. They feast and feast, and it's never our turn to eat.

Kanon was vampiric, lapping up our blood relation. Every day I spend away from her reinforces this realization. I am unlearning our dynamic, where she ate and ate and ate away at my heart. I am unlearning sport culture, which shredded the skin of my fingers, leaving red flecks on every pitch I threw. I am unlearning the cries that cut my flesh, Kanon's wailing sobs whenever I went out. I am unlearning how I try to fix the women who hurt me most. I am unlearning how, starving for human connection, I threw myself at any girl who seemed nice enough to fix me in turn.

He presses his lips to my clothed shoulder, and I shutter. I cannot help it. I bite my lip, and imagine biting him, rubbery flesh with such wonderful give under my teeth. Crushing down until blood vessels popped, blossoming under his skin. I wonder, briefly, what that would look like on him, how my markings would show up.

I'd never marked a girl. It seemed too permanent, too much when I knew I was not permitted to stay. Maybe it was wrong of me to use those girls, and throw them aside as soon as Kanon noticed. Maybe I was starving for human connection, starving to have someone who wouldn't abuse me. Maybe that's no excuse. Maybe that's why Maizono hates me. Maybe being used by a vampire turns you into one.

Regardless of what I am, he is here now, and he needs to eat me as much as I need to eat him. We're both still learning to talk about the things that matter, really, but I get the sense he was as fucked as I am. That his frame was picked for flesh by vultures of all kinds. That he dragged himself across a desert, willing to eat even mud to live. He's so brave, honestly; a guy like that, who's naturally cowardly, who's lived every day in fear, who's still survived so much debt and destruction: that's a brave man, I think. We should both be dead, really, but we're here, and it's time for our feast of plenty.

Together, we are an Ouroboros, infinitely feeding ourselves. We eat ourselves and digest and heal, stronger than before, and then we eat ourselves again. It is an infinite cycle. This, I think, is what might become love, this fullness. I've never felt this full in my life, never felt this whole. He helps me feel full, and I want to eat him, for his raw flesh to permanently become part of mine, for him to literally fill my stomach. I want his coppery blood dripping from my lips.

Then I want him to reach inside me, to pull my organs out with his bare hands. He talks about selling organs all the time, but I know he'd want to keep mine. He'd hold my stomach, still full of his own flesh, in those hungry, hungry hands. Viscera would be caked under his fingernails. He'd whine about how gross it all was, but he'd keep those organs. He'd set them inside himself, to replace the ones I'd already eaten.

By the time we finish our gorging, we'd be two people in one flesh, and so whole we'd only eat ourselves for fun. Like sucking our own dick, and biting it off when we're out of cum, and lapping up the blood to clear out the aftertaste. Good, clean fun.

"Devour me," I whine, and press my body to his.

He blinks at me, face pinched in confusion, before his eyes light up. "Oh! That's that vore thing Yamada told me about, right?"

I flush. I'm not into vore. The man's an idiot. He's my idiot. I lean in and kiss him, on the lips, and he responds in kind, clumsy but passionately. Lips moving, chewing, wet.

I am being eaten whole.

**Author's Note:**

> Heavily inspired by this essay here: https://soracities.tumblr.com/post/187029697198/a-vore-kinkster-i-see-now. It's an incredible analysis of cannibalism as a metaphor for love throughout the written canon. Go read it.
> 
> Imo, this is too eloquent to actually function as Kuwata's internal narration.


End file.
